Thursday, February 23, 2012

Gloopdooploopdeloopbettyboop when, after removing string after coiled string of Lite Brite because every day is at least 8% Christmas plus tax, I peel the onion & cry because it's an onion & they do that [ed. note: I'm not really because the only onions in the vicinity are caked on vending machine botulism & tears lessen the chance of an ulcer everyone should have attainable goals], & because further & hence writer's block is the midst of boxing up & closeting next to the skeleton all the freeform ready for public jazz joints & since I don't discount dissociation all I can do in reply is to thine own self nelsonmuntz in the mirror in lieu of diatribal rants on how silence is golden makes fools of us all, or at least some, for once not me, or am I the fool, probably. They sure can gab.

Postscript: no, this ain't a sayonara, some of you fuckers take what I say way too literal, a mistake when dealing with someone who talks, as a rule, out of his ass.